Lately I’ve been trying to recreate my mother’s recipes. Dad just saved me a lot of guesswork. He rummaged around and found them, two boxes full. One is a tan metal box marked “Lit-Ning Business Accessories, Fresno, Calif., Model No. 32-HC.” (Obviously recipes, right? How could we miss that?) The other is a sturdy plastic box containing two rows of Betty Crocker recipe cards. There’s an avocado green-and-aqua American eagle emblazoned on the front, along with various foodstuffs like fish, carrots (or perhaps parsnips?), ears of corn, a whole roast turkey, sliced bread, potatoes and a large ham hock. I think the folks at Betty Crocker were trying to convey that cooking wholesome meals is the foundation of American greatness. I couldn’t agree more.
However, the Betty Crocker recipes seemed untouched except for several handwritten recipes crammed in the back — these must be the recipes that Mom really used. There were also two handwritten recipes of my own, for pumpkin drop cookies and pineapple cream cheese muffins. (I went through a massive, and probably annoying, muffin-baking phase in my teens.)
Dad and I spent a pleasant half-hour on the phone as he pulled out recipe cards and we reminisced about Great Meals of the Past. (Yes, I think capitalization is necessary.) Here are Mom’s recipes for meatloaf, cheeseburger-potato pie, steak and onions, pot roast, mulligatawny, macaroni and cheese, peach cobbler and vanilla ice cream. We waxed eloquent about pepper steak, banana pudding, pecan pie and the cranberry Jell-O salad with pineapple cream cheese frosting that appeared beside our plates every Thanksgiving. I even found the recipe for her friend Ruth’s famous baked pineapple, which I promise to make for you this year.
I found the recipe for Mom’s chicken cacciatore — the dish I begged her to make again and again. Turns out this recipe is snipped from a Campbell’s Soup can! I’ll make that soon, but in the meantime, I thought I’d try something written in Mom’s own indecipherable scribble. At first glance, this is a shopping list for someone named Chuck N. Eskwinini, but on closer examination, it’s a recipe for Chicken and Zucchini. The recipe is a bit short on specifics, but I attempted to extrapolate and reconstruct it as I cooked it. If it tastes terrible, it’s actually Mom’s fault because of her poor penmanship. Tsk, tsk.